Worthy lives
Commentary
The thread which your authors find curling through these lessons is expressed in Ephesians 4:1 when the author writes, "I beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called." Worthy lives! Who doesn't want their lives to be worthy? The issue is not the desire to lead worthy lives. Everyone must think that his or her life is of some worth in some way. The issue, however, is what is worthy. What is the worth we seek to embody in our lives?
One problem is that many North Americans find it hard to know what it is that makes life worth living. The array of values advocated by various segments of our society makes it difficult for many of us to decide what constitutes a worthy life these days. The most obvious example of this is the attraction of the value placed on financial affluence. There are very few in our society who have not been tempted to assume that a worthy life is the success that brings economic abundance. Often we hear that temptation stated in terms of wanting our children to have a better life than ours, and "better" usually means freedom from unfulfilled want. However, the conceptions of worthy life are far more abundant than the pursuit of money as a value. Is there value in technology? Does life become worthwhile when we try to preserve the values and morals of the last century? Is a life devoted to saving the environment worthy?
Probably there are many in our congregations who are seeking something that is worthy of becoming the foundation of their lives. The gospel we proclaim surely includes that which makes life worth living. How might we preach these lessons so as to raise and respond to the issue of living worthy lives?
2 Samuel 11:26--12:13a
The question of a worthy life lurks behind this story. It is act two of the drama of David's entanglement with Bathsheba. Last Sunday's lesson concludes with the news that David's cover-up plan works, and Uriah is taken out of the picture. Verses 16-25 of chapter 11 detail the military action and conclude with David's receiving news of Uriah's death. The first verses (26-27a) of this Sunday's reading simply -- and almost coldly -- tell us that Bethsheba went through the requisite mourning, that, when it was proper to do so, David married her, and that she had their son. These cold facts conclude the last scene of act one of the drama. The next act begins with the appearance of another and the leading character in the drama.
God's displeasure with David's abuse of power becomes Nathan's message, but the message is delivered in the most forceful manner possible. Nathan's parable is designed to engage the king at an emotional level. It tells of the most obvious and dreadful injustice one could imagine, and does so by making the subject a family pet lamb. The poor are at the mercy of the rich. Without any regard whatsoever for the property of the poor family, the rich man steals the lamb rather than slaughter one of his own to feed his guest. Such an insensitive human he is, and such an atrociously selfish act he does! The story does exactly what Nathan had wanted it to do. David is outraged at the injustice of the rich man's actions. And Nathan drives the point home: "You are the man!"
The prophet has opened the way for his message (12:7b-12); and David is now able to hear it. The word of the Lord in this case has three distinguishable parts: First, what God has done for David and had intended to do, had not David betrayed his office (12:7b-8). Second, what David has done (12:9). And, third, what consequences will follow from his sin (12:10-12). Those consequences are of two kinds. The first is that "the sword shall never depart from your house" and the second that David will experience trouble after trouble. The punishment fits the crime. Since David has arranged Uriah's death by sword, so shall violence fill David's life from now on. Since David's sin included sleeping with another man's wife, he will see others sleep with his wives. Since he did his deed in secret, God will accomplish the punishment before the eyes of the whole people.
David is convicted of his wrongdoing. In the simplest but most profound way, he acknowledges that in sinning against Uriah, Bathsheba, the whole of the people, and his covenant as Israel's king, he has sinned against God. God is as much offended by his actions as are the victims of his abuse of power. Nathan goes on (beyond the confines of our reading) to describe still another and more immediate consequence of David's sin -- not his own death, but the death of the child. Ending the reading where the lectionary does spares listeners having to hear the awful news that the innocent infant will suffer for his parents' sin. However, the reading ends, appropriately with David's words of contrition.
David had sought a life worth living, and it seemed certain that he had found one in his role as God's servant ruling Israel. What happens to lead him into the abuse of his power and disobedience of God? Like so many of us, David seems attracted to another and opposing value as a supplement to his life. Why can he not have the pleasure of Bathsheba and still remain the faithful king? What's wrong in a bit of pleasure? David derails his life -- wrecks it -- by losing focus on what is most important to us. So, many of us also take aim on a worthy purpose for our lives only to get detoured off in another direction. David's story is the story of humanity -- your story and ours. He models not only our weakness but also our confession of wrongdoing. His contrition suggests to us all that there is a route back onto the path of worthy living, but not without a cost.
Ephesians 4:1-16
One of the major and persistent themes in the letter to the Ephesians is unity and in particular the unity of the church, the body of Christ (e.g., 2:11-22). Scholars often propose that this author has a more universal view of the church than Paul does, since Paul seems to mean by "church" the single congregation he is addressing. The reading suggests the way in which this author (Paul or another) understands the process by which the body of Christ "grows up." We could sketch the movement of this passage in the following way: An opening admonition (vv. 1-2); the singleness of the church and our faith (vv. 3-6); the individual gifts of grace with a parenthetical statement about the Giver (vv. 7-11); the results of the faithful exercise of these gifts, namely, unity and maturity (vv. 12-13); and a concluding admonition to grow the body of Christ (vv. 14-16).
The worth of human life, the author suggests, is found in God's call (v. 1). In Ephesians that call is surely God's act in Christ, which for this author entails God's summon into the divine plan for the world and humanity (see, e.g., 1:5-9, and our column for Proper 10). In other words, in the calling God invites us to live our lives in accordance with the divine intention for human life. To live by this divine summons means nurturing certain virtues, such as "humility," "gentleness," love, and maintenance of "the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace." This last phrase implies that the Holy Spirit provides us with our sense of community or oneness, that we are responsible for maintaining that gift, and that in doing so we cultivate a bond among us that makes us whole and overcomes divisive differences.
That singleness of the church and our faith are stated more clearly in verses 3-6. Our unity corresponds to the singleness of those ingredients of our faith, all of which root in God's own universality. God is not only over "all" but penetrates the whole of reality. The individual gifts of grace exist within this communal unity and are listed in verse 11. (See Romans 12:6-8 and 1 Corinthians 12:28-30 for other lists of the gifts.) The author cannot resist the temptation to insert within the discussion of gifts a statement about the Giver. The adaptation of Psalm 68:18 is a reversal of the passage itself, which speaks of God's ascending Sinai and receiving gifts from the people. However, the point the author wants to make appears to be that as Christ ascended, so he had descended into the very depths of life (vv. 8-10). "The lower parts of the earth" may refer to Christ's journey into Sheol to speak to the spirits there or to the way in which Christ experienced the whole of human life.
The purpose of these gifts is to "build" up the body in both unity and maturity (vv. 12-13). They are the skills needed within the community to allow it to accomplish its reason for being. What is remarkable about this portion of the reading is the way in which the author recognizes that the church is a dynamic, growing, and maturing organism and not a static reality. The passage ends, as it begins, with an admonition to the growth of the body of Christ (vv. 14-16). Growth means coming to clearer commitment so that we are not "tossed" around by various influences. This is surely a recognition that the author understands the church to be threatened by teachings which are at odds with his own. Growth comes when in the oneness of the community we can "speak truth in love" to one another and hence shape the church as an organ of love.
The "life worthy of your calling" is clearly living with a sense of dependence on the gifts that come from Christ which are then used to "build up" the church. The worth of life is found in community knit together by a common faith. So, the worthy life is not something we find on our own; we are not lone rangers in quest of worth. Indeed, we do not have to find what's worthy of life. God gives that to us in Christ, and we only embrace the divine call to live the worthiness of the gospel. Moreover, the essence of a worthy life is the way in which we relate with others within the community in love that seeks the best for the other. This is the substance of the life to which we are called.
John 6:24-35
The question of knowing and embracing what's worthy for our lives is on the lips of the people who followed Jesus from the place of their feeding. The geography is a bit confusing here, but we need not concern ourselves with it. What matters is that the people go to considerable effort to find Jesus and engage him in conversation. This reading sets the stage for the whole of the bread of life discourse that follows it, beginning with verse 35 and concluding at verse 71. (Raymond E. Brown calls the assigned reading, the "Preface to the Discourse on the Bread of Life.") The reading acknowledges this function of the passage by including verse 35 in which Jesus says for the first time, "I am the bread of life."
Even though Jesus is constantly misunderstood, this passage represents a true dialogue, which is not always the case in the Johannine speeches of Jesus (e.g., see chapter 3). The people initiate the conversation in verse 25 and respond to each of Jesus' sayings with additional questions -- verses 28-31 (the crowd's longest statement), and a final request in verse 34. Those questions are: "When did you come here?" (v. 25). "What must we do to perform the works of God?" (v. 28). "What sign are you going to give us then, so that we may see it and believe you?" (v. 30). The request is, "Sir, give us this bread always" (v. 34). Jesus' statements are interwoven as responses to the crowd -- verses 26-27, 32-33, and 35. Throughout the whole conversation, Jesus is critical of the crowd.
The crowd's first question to Jesus seems odd, but what's important is that Jesus immediately challenges their motives for seeking him. They are interested in the benefits Jesus has to offer them rather than in experiencing an event which allows them to see who Jesus is. They are in it for what they can get out of it. Jesus invites them to seek another kind of food, one which nourishes forever. The "seal" Jesus speaks of is simply God's affirmation of Jesus and his ministry.
Jesus' remark about "work for the food that endures" stirs the next question from the crowd. Rather strangely, they want to know what they are to do in order to be doing "the works of God." Exactly what they mean by God's "works" is not clear. However, it is clear that they think there are things they must do in order to acquire the food that does not perish. In effect, Jesus' answer is "all you must do is believe in God," the one who sent Jesus. Works are not necessary but only faith. This is typical of the Gospel of John that includes no moral commands except the one to love (13:34).
Now the crowd needs some evidence that Jesus is this "Son of Man." Strangely enough, the feeding of the multitude was not sign enough for them. They imply belief is possible only if Jesus does something marvelous for them. In this sense, the passage suggests that Jesus' signs do not evoke faith simply because they are extraordinary events. Verse 31 states the crowd's assumption that wondrous events provoke faith and appeals to the ancient story of God's feeding Israel with manna (see Exodus 16:1-36). Exodus 16:4 and Psalm 78:23-25 speak of God's giving the people manna, and so the "He" in verse 31 would seem to refer to God. However, Jesus responds as if he is correcting a misconception of the wilderness feeding. It is not Moses but God who feeds the people, and the giving is not a past event ("gave") but a present one ("gives"). The point is that the ancient story of the manna in the wilderness only anticipates the true bread from God who is Jesus. To "give life" means something more than physical existence. It means giving "eternal life," the real life God intends for humans.
Understandably this greedy crowd, who seeks Jesus out for another meal, requests, "Give us this bread always." However, the only reason to question the sincerity of the request is the motive attributed to the crowd earlier in verse 26 and how they act later in the story (e.g., vv. 41 and 52). Jesus' response is simply that he himself is that bread. This is one of several statements Jesus makes about his identity in which he uses the emphatic construction "I am" (ego eimi) followed by an explicit predicate. (For other instances see 6:51; 8:12, 18, 23; 10:7; 11:25; 14:6; and 15:1, 5). In each of these, Jesus declares that he is another reality; that is, in these "I Am" sayings Jesus evokes a metaphor for his identity. The metaphor shocks the reader, for the equation is clearly not literal (Jesus is not actually bread), and we are left to ponder its meaning.
The metaphorical language continues in the reading's conclusion where Jesus promises he fills the hunger and the thirst of those who believe in him (see also 4:14; 7:37-38). To come to Jesus means relying on him and thereby believing in him. Verse 35 announces the theme of the discourse in verses 36-58.
Whatever the motives of the crowd that seeks Jesus out, they are clearly interested in finding something that sustains and enriches their lives with meaning. If their concentration at first is on physical food, Jesus' remarks soon lead them deeper, and it appears that in their last words in this reading they may be sincere in wanting this "bread" that gives life. They are very much like those of us who seek to live worthy lives and may not know what is worthy. The crowd allows us a glimpse into ourselves and our needs. Likewise, Jesus' words, however harsh they may seem, force us to be honest with ourselves and acknowledge that we are sometimes superficial in our quest. The effort to make economic affluence the worth of our lives is comparable to the crowd's seeking Jesus out so they will not have to go to the grocery store.
It is too simple to say that Jesus is always the answer to every question we have. However, in this case, the revelation of God in Christ is the very thing that allows us to live worthy lives. The "life" Jesus promises is precisely what the author of the Second Lesson has in mind by admonishing readers to "lead a life worthy of your calling." In Christ we find the meaning of life and the clue as to what makes it all worthwhile. The bread that nourishes us for living full lives is the love and grace of the God who calls us.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By Elizabeth Achtemeier
2 Samuel 11:26--12:13a
Our eyewitness account of the reign of King David over all of Israel continues. As we heard last Sunday, in order to hide his sin of adultery with Bathsheba, the wife of Uriah, David has cleverly arranged for Uriah to be killed in a battle with the Ammonites. Joab, David's commander, brings the news to the king that Uriah's death has occurred as David ordered, and David considers that he has gotten off without blame or suspicion. His message to Joab is, "Do not let this matter trouble you" (v. 25). After all, warfare always brings with it casualties. David is not troubled. Neither should Joab be troubled.
Consequently, after Bathsheba has gone through the required period of mourning for her husband, perhaps seven days, perhaps three weeks, David sends for her and brings her to his house and makes her his wife. Significantly, however, Bathsheba is never called by her name in these verses. She is "the wife of Uriah" (v. 26), and she remains so, even in David's bed.
Verse 27 ends with the most significant words in the whole story. "The thing that David had done displeased the Lord." The story has all seemed so secular up to this point, so human with its intrigue and lust and power-ploys. But no action on this earth is beyond the pleasure or displeasure of God, and while David and Joab are untroubled, God is not. David has thought himself autonomous, you see, able to run his own affairs as he wishes, just as so many in our time think that they are autonomous, self-governing, independent individuals. That is an illusory autonomy, however, for every person is made in the image of God, and is responsible to him in that unbreakable relationship, a relationship that is made even more inseparable by David's covenant responsibilities to the Lord.
So the prophet Nathan appears on the scene, bearing the Word of the Lord. Reinhold Niebuhr once remarked of Nathan's parable, "That's real preaching!" By his indignation over the uncaring greed of the rich man, who stole the poor man's little lamb, David indicts himself. He decrees death for the scoundrel, whereupon Nathan whirls on him and declares, "You are the man!"
"Thus says the Lord," Nathan proclaims twice (vv. 7, 11). God has done everything for David -- anointing, delivering, giving, giving (vv. 7, 8); the verbs emphasize God's overflowing gracious action. But David has despised, smitten, taken, slain (vv. 9, 10), in his false sense of power and autonomy. "Therefore" (v. 10) -- God will reply with his actions. The davidic dynasty will never know peace, even within David's household. His punishment will be worked out not only in the battles that Israel will continually have to fight until she falls to the Babylonians. But David's sin will also return upon his own head in his relationships with his sons, just one of which is mentioned in our text. The reference to taking David's wives "in the sight of this sun" (v. 11), refers to his son Absalom's revolt against his father, during which Absalom lies with David's concubines upon a roof "in the sight of this sun." For all of our supposed independence and freedom to go our own way, there is a moral coherence that God establishes within our history and that he upholds in his lordship.
Upon hearing the Word of the Lord, David has enough ethical decency left in him to acknowledge his sin against the Lord (v. 13). Every sinful act against others is a sin against God. And God is merciful. As a result, the sentence of death, which David himself has pronounced (v. 5) is removed. David will live (v. 13). But he will live with the consequences of his actions for himself, for his child in Bathsheba's womb (v. 14), and finally for his people. Confession and repentance of our sinfulness do not often bring with them freedom from the effects of our wrongdoing. The murderer on death row who "finds Jesus" and repents nevertheless leaves behind him one he has killed. But acknowledgment of our sin and sincere repentance do prevent our relationship with a merciful God from being broken permanently. David can still pray and find God with him, and in that mercy there is undeserved grace and hope.
Lutheran Option -- Exodus 16:2-4, 9-15
The people of Israel have been delivered from their house of bondage in Egypt by God, an event that took place about 1279 B.C., when Rameses II began his reign as the Pharaoh of Egypt. Now the people are journeying through the wilderness toward the promised destination of a land to call their own. They have recently left the oasis of Elim, with its water and palm trees in abundance, but now they face the problem of finding more food, although they are really not in desperate want. It's just that they can't stuff themselves any more. They could eat to the full in Egypt. Now they're slimming down and a bit hungry, and so they complain against Moses and Aaron. "You have brought us into this wilderness to kill us," they gripe.
Can you believe that God loves even gripers, those people who complain all the time? God himself, who has been leading this bunch of grumbling souls in a pillar of cloud, day by day, appears and tells them through Moses that he will fill their emptiness. Why? Because he wants even gripers to know that he is the Lord of their lives (v. 12).
In the evening, God literally covers the tent camp with quail, so that the people have lots of meat. And in the morning, there is dew that leaves behind a fine, flake-like substance that can be made into bread. The Israelites don't know what the latter is. "Man hu?" they ask. "What is it?" And from those Hebrew words we get our word "manna."
Some interpreters have maintained that the gift of the quail and manna were natural occurrences, brought about by a wind blowing in the quail, and a type of plant excreting a juice that formed a yellowish-white flake or ball. And so they ignore the God-given grace involved, which the event reveals to us.
God loves even that complaining, griping, never-satisfied bunch of wandering ex-slaves, and provides them the means of life in abundance. It can give us the assurance that the Lord can love even us. And yes, perhaps it can turn all of our complaining into grateful thanks for God's daily love and provisions.
One problem is that many North Americans find it hard to know what it is that makes life worth living. The array of values advocated by various segments of our society makes it difficult for many of us to decide what constitutes a worthy life these days. The most obvious example of this is the attraction of the value placed on financial affluence. There are very few in our society who have not been tempted to assume that a worthy life is the success that brings economic abundance. Often we hear that temptation stated in terms of wanting our children to have a better life than ours, and "better" usually means freedom from unfulfilled want. However, the conceptions of worthy life are far more abundant than the pursuit of money as a value. Is there value in technology? Does life become worthwhile when we try to preserve the values and morals of the last century? Is a life devoted to saving the environment worthy?
Probably there are many in our congregations who are seeking something that is worthy of becoming the foundation of their lives. The gospel we proclaim surely includes that which makes life worth living. How might we preach these lessons so as to raise and respond to the issue of living worthy lives?
2 Samuel 11:26--12:13a
The question of a worthy life lurks behind this story. It is act two of the drama of David's entanglement with Bathsheba. Last Sunday's lesson concludes with the news that David's cover-up plan works, and Uriah is taken out of the picture. Verses 16-25 of chapter 11 detail the military action and conclude with David's receiving news of Uriah's death. The first verses (26-27a) of this Sunday's reading simply -- and almost coldly -- tell us that Bethsheba went through the requisite mourning, that, when it was proper to do so, David married her, and that she had their son. These cold facts conclude the last scene of act one of the drama. The next act begins with the appearance of another and the leading character in the drama.
God's displeasure with David's abuse of power becomes Nathan's message, but the message is delivered in the most forceful manner possible. Nathan's parable is designed to engage the king at an emotional level. It tells of the most obvious and dreadful injustice one could imagine, and does so by making the subject a family pet lamb. The poor are at the mercy of the rich. Without any regard whatsoever for the property of the poor family, the rich man steals the lamb rather than slaughter one of his own to feed his guest. Such an insensitive human he is, and such an atrociously selfish act he does! The story does exactly what Nathan had wanted it to do. David is outraged at the injustice of the rich man's actions. And Nathan drives the point home: "You are the man!"
The prophet has opened the way for his message (12:7b-12); and David is now able to hear it. The word of the Lord in this case has three distinguishable parts: First, what God has done for David and had intended to do, had not David betrayed his office (12:7b-8). Second, what David has done (12:9). And, third, what consequences will follow from his sin (12:10-12). Those consequences are of two kinds. The first is that "the sword shall never depart from your house" and the second that David will experience trouble after trouble. The punishment fits the crime. Since David has arranged Uriah's death by sword, so shall violence fill David's life from now on. Since David's sin included sleeping with another man's wife, he will see others sleep with his wives. Since he did his deed in secret, God will accomplish the punishment before the eyes of the whole people.
David is convicted of his wrongdoing. In the simplest but most profound way, he acknowledges that in sinning against Uriah, Bathsheba, the whole of the people, and his covenant as Israel's king, he has sinned against God. God is as much offended by his actions as are the victims of his abuse of power. Nathan goes on (beyond the confines of our reading) to describe still another and more immediate consequence of David's sin -- not his own death, but the death of the child. Ending the reading where the lectionary does spares listeners having to hear the awful news that the innocent infant will suffer for his parents' sin. However, the reading ends, appropriately with David's words of contrition.
David had sought a life worth living, and it seemed certain that he had found one in his role as God's servant ruling Israel. What happens to lead him into the abuse of his power and disobedience of God? Like so many of us, David seems attracted to another and opposing value as a supplement to his life. Why can he not have the pleasure of Bathsheba and still remain the faithful king? What's wrong in a bit of pleasure? David derails his life -- wrecks it -- by losing focus on what is most important to us. So, many of us also take aim on a worthy purpose for our lives only to get detoured off in another direction. David's story is the story of humanity -- your story and ours. He models not only our weakness but also our confession of wrongdoing. His contrition suggests to us all that there is a route back onto the path of worthy living, but not without a cost.
Ephesians 4:1-16
One of the major and persistent themes in the letter to the Ephesians is unity and in particular the unity of the church, the body of Christ (e.g., 2:11-22). Scholars often propose that this author has a more universal view of the church than Paul does, since Paul seems to mean by "church" the single congregation he is addressing. The reading suggests the way in which this author (Paul or another) understands the process by which the body of Christ "grows up." We could sketch the movement of this passage in the following way: An opening admonition (vv. 1-2); the singleness of the church and our faith (vv. 3-6); the individual gifts of grace with a parenthetical statement about the Giver (vv. 7-11); the results of the faithful exercise of these gifts, namely, unity and maturity (vv. 12-13); and a concluding admonition to grow the body of Christ (vv. 14-16).
The worth of human life, the author suggests, is found in God's call (v. 1). In Ephesians that call is surely God's act in Christ, which for this author entails God's summon into the divine plan for the world and humanity (see, e.g., 1:5-9, and our column for Proper 10). In other words, in the calling God invites us to live our lives in accordance with the divine intention for human life. To live by this divine summons means nurturing certain virtues, such as "humility," "gentleness," love, and maintenance of "the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace." This last phrase implies that the Holy Spirit provides us with our sense of community or oneness, that we are responsible for maintaining that gift, and that in doing so we cultivate a bond among us that makes us whole and overcomes divisive differences.
That singleness of the church and our faith are stated more clearly in verses 3-6. Our unity corresponds to the singleness of those ingredients of our faith, all of which root in God's own universality. God is not only over "all" but penetrates the whole of reality. The individual gifts of grace exist within this communal unity and are listed in verse 11. (See Romans 12:6-8 and 1 Corinthians 12:28-30 for other lists of the gifts.) The author cannot resist the temptation to insert within the discussion of gifts a statement about the Giver. The adaptation of Psalm 68:18 is a reversal of the passage itself, which speaks of God's ascending Sinai and receiving gifts from the people. However, the point the author wants to make appears to be that as Christ ascended, so he had descended into the very depths of life (vv. 8-10). "The lower parts of the earth" may refer to Christ's journey into Sheol to speak to the spirits there or to the way in which Christ experienced the whole of human life.
The purpose of these gifts is to "build" up the body in both unity and maturity (vv. 12-13). They are the skills needed within the community to allow it to accomplish its reason for being. What is remarkable about this portion of the reading is the way in which the author recognizes that the church is a dynamic, growing, and maturing organism and not a static reality. The passage ends, as it begins, with an admonition to the growth of the body of Christ (vv. 14-16). Growth means coming to clearer commitment so that we are not "tossed" around by various influences. This is surely a recognition that the author understands the church to be threatened by teachings which are at odds with his own. Growth comes when in the oneness of the community we can "speak truth in love" to one another and hence shape the church as an organ of love.
The "life worthy of your calling" is clearly living with a sense of dependence on the gifts that come from Christ which are then used to "build up" the church. The worth of life is found in community knit together by a common faith. So, the worthy life is not something we find on our own; we are not lone rangers in quest of worth. Indeed, we do not have to find what's worthy of life. God gives that to us in Christ, and we only embrace the divine call to live the worthiness of the gospel. Moreover, the essence of a worthy life is the way in which we relate with others within the community in love that seeks the best for the other. This is the substance of the life to which we are called.
John 6:24-35
The question of knowing and embracing what's worthy for our lives is on the lips of the people who followed Jesus from the place of their feeding. The geography is a bit confusing here, but we need not concern ourselves with it. What matters is that the people go to considerable effort to find Jesus and engage him in conversation. This reading sets the stage for the whole of the bread of life discourse that follows it, beginning with verse 35 and concluding at verse 71. (Raymond E. Brown calls the assigned reading, the "Preface to the Discourse on the Bread of Life.") The reading acknowledges this function of the passage by including verse 35 in which Jesus says for the first time, "I am the bread of life."
Even though Jesus is constantly misunderstood, this passage represents a true dialogue, which is not always the case in the Johannine speeches of Jesus (e.g., see chapter 3). The people initiate the conversation in verse 25 and respond to each of Jesus' sayings with additional questions -- verses 28-31 (the crowd's longest statement), and a final request in verse 34. Those questions are: "When did you come here?" (v. 25). "What must we do to perform the works of God?" (v. 28). "What sign are you going to give us then, so that we may see it and believe you?" (v. 30). The request is, "Sir, give us this bread always" (v. 34). Jesus' statements are interwoven as responses to the crowd -- verses 26-27, 32-33, and 35. Throughout the whole conversation, Jesus is critical of the crowd.
The crowd's first question to Jesus seems odd, but what's important is that Jesus immediately challenges their motives for seeking him. They are interested in the benefits Jesus has to offer them rather than in experiencing an event which allows them to see who Jesus is. They are in it for what they can get out of it. Jesus invites them to seek another kind of food, one which nourishes forever. The "seal" Jesus speaks of is simply God's affirmation of Jesus and his ministry.
Jesus' remark about "work for the food that endures" stirs the next question from the crowd. Rather strangely, they want to know what they are to do in order to be doing "the works of God." Exactly what they mean by God's "works" is not clear. However, it is clear that they think there are things they must do in order to acquire the food that does not perish. In effect, Jesus' answer is "all you must do is believe in God," the one who sent Jesus. Works are not necessary but only faith. This is typical of the Gospel of John that includes no moral commands except the one to love (13:34).
Now the crowd needs some evidence that Jesus is this "Son of Man." Strangely enough, the feeding of the multitude was not sign enough for them. They imply belief is possible only if Jesus does something marvelous for them. In this sense, the passage suggests that Jesus' signs do not evoke faith simply because they are extraordinary events. Verse 31 states the crowd's assumption that wondrous events provoke faith and appeals to the ancient story of God's feeding Israel with manna (see Exodus 16:1-36). Exodus 16:4 and Psalm 78:23-25 speak of God's giving the people manna, and so the "He" in verse 31 would seem to refer to God. However, Jesus responds as if he is correcting a misconception of the wilderness feeding. It is not Moses but God who feeds the people, and the giving is not a past event ("gave") but a present one ("gives"). The point is that the ancient story of the manna in the wilderness only anticipates the true bread from God who is Jesus. To "give life" means something more than physical existence. It means giving "eternal life," the real life God intends for humans.
Understandably this greedy crowd, who seeks Jesus out for another meal, requests, "Give us this bread always." However, the only reason to question the sincerity of the request is the motive attributed to the crowd earlier in verse 26 and how they act later in the story (e.g., vv. 41 and 52). Jesus' response is simply that he himself is that bread. This is one of several statements Jesus makes about his identity in which he uses the emphatic construction "I am" (ego eimi) followed by an explicit predicate. (For other instances see 6:51; 8:12, 18, 23; 10:7; 11:25; 14:6; and 15:1, 5). In each of these, Jesus declares that he is another reality; that is, in these "I Am" sayings Jesus evokes a metaphor for his identity. The metaphor shocks the reader, for the equation is clearly not literal (Jesus is not actually bread), and we are left to ponder its meaning.
The metaphorical language continues in the reading's conclusion where Jesus promises he fills the hunger and the thirst of those who believe in him (see also 4:14; 7:37-38). To come to Jesus means relying on him and thereby believing in him. Verse 35 announces the theme of the discourse in verses 36-58.
Whatever the motives of the crowd that seeks Jesus out, they are clearly interested in finding something that sustains and enriches their lives with meaning. If their concentration at first is on physical food, Jesus' remarks soon lead them deeper, and it appears that in their last words in this reading they may be sincere in wanting this "bread" that gives life. They are very much like those of us who seek to live worthy lives and may not know what is worthy. The crowd allows us a glimpse into ourselves and our needs. Likewise, Jesus' words, however harsh they may seem, force us to be honest with ourselves and acknowledge that we are sometimes superficial in our quest. The effort to make economic affluence the worth of our lives is comparable to the crowd's seeking Jesus out so they will not have to go to the grocery store.
It is too simple to say that Jesus is always the answer to every question we have. However, in this case, the revelation of God in Christ is the very thing that allows us to live worthy lives. The "life" Jesus promises is precisely what the author of the Second Lesson has in mind by admonishing readers to "lead a life worthy of your calling." In Christ we find the meaning of life and the clue as to what makes it all worthwhile. The bread that nourishes us for living full lives is the love and grace of the God who calls us.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By Elizabeth Achtemeier
2 Samuel 11:26--12:13a
Our eyewitness account of the reign of King David over all of Israel continues. As we heard last Sunday, in order to hide his sin of adultery with Bathsheba, the wife of Uriah, David has cleverly arranged for Uriah to be killed in a battle with the Ammonites. Joab, David's commander, brings the news to the king that Uriah's death has occurred as David ordered, and David considers that he has gotten off without blame or suspicion. His message to Joab is, "Do not let this matter trouble you" (v. 25). After all, warfare always brings with it casualties. David is not troubled. Neither should Joab be troubled.
Consequently, after Bathsheba has gone through the required period of mourning for her husband, perhaps seven days, perhaps three weeks, David sends for her and brings her to his house and makes her his wife. Significantly, however, Bathsheba is never called by her name in these verses. She is "the wife of Uriah" (v. 26), and she remains so, even in David's bed.
Verse 27 ends with the most significant words in the whole story. "The thing that David had done displeased the Lord." The story has all seemed so secular up to this point, so human with its intrigue and lust and power-ploys. But no action on this earth is beyond the pleasure or displeasure of God, and while David and Joab are untroubled, God is not. David has thought himself autonomous, you see, able to run his own affairs as he wishes, just as so many in our time think that they are autonomous, self-governing, independent individuals. That is an illusory autonomy, however, for every person is made in the image of God, and is responsible to him in that unbreakable relationship, a relationship that is made even more inseparable by David's covenant responsibilities to the Lord.
So the prophet Nathan appears on the scene, bearing the Word of the Lord. Reinhold Niebuhr once remarked of Nathan's parable, "That's real preaching!" By his indignation over the uncaring greed of the rich man, who stole the poor man's little lamb, David indicts himself. He decrees death for the scoundrel, whereupon Nathan whirls on him and declares, "You are the man!"
"Thus says the Lord," Nathan proclaims twice (vv. 7, 11). God has done everything for David -- anointing, delivering, giving, giving (vv. 7, 8); the verbs emphasize God's overflowing gracious action. But David has despised, smitten, taken, slain (vv. 9, 10), in his false sense of power and autonomy. "Therefore" (v. 10) -- God will reply with his actions. The davidic dynasty will never know peace, even within David's household. His punishment will be worked out not only in the battles that Israel will continually have to fight until she falls to the Babylonians. But David's sin will also return upon his own head in his relationships with his sons, just one of which is mentioned in our text. The reference to taking David's wives "in the sight of this sun" (v. 11), refers to his son Absalom's revolt against his father, during which Absalom lies with David's concubines upon a roof "in the sight of this sun." For all of our supposed independence and freedom to go our own way, there is a moral coherence that God establishes within our history and that he upholds in his lordship.
Upon hearing the Word of the Lord, David has enough ethical decency left in him to acknowledge his sin against the Lord (v. 13). Every sinful act against others is a sin against God. And God is merciful. As a result, the sentence of death, which David himself has pronounced (v. 5) is removed. David will live (v. 13). But he will live with the consequences of his actions for himself, for his child in Bathsheba's womb (v. 14), and finally for his people. Confession and repentance of our sinfulness do not often bring with them freedom from the effects of our wrongdoing. The murderer on death row who "finds Jesus" and repents nevertheless leaves behind him one he has killed. But acknowledgment of our sin and sincere repentance do prevent our relationship with a merciful God from being broken permanently. David can still pray and find God with him, and in that mercy there is undeserved grace and hope.
Lutheran Option -- Exodus 16:2-4, 9-15
The people of Israel have been delivered from their house of bondage in Egypt by God, an event that took place about 1279 B.C., when Rameses II began his reign as the Pharaoh of Egypt. Now the people are journeying through the wilderness toward the promised destination of a land to call their own. They have recently left the oasis of Elim, with its water and palm trees in abundance, but now they face the problem of finding more food, although they are really not in desperate want. It's just that they can't stuff themselves any more. They could eat to the full in Egypt. Now they're slimming down and a bit hungry, and so they complain against Moses and Aaron. "You have brought us into this wilderness to kill us," they gripe.
Can you believe that God loves even gripers, those people who complain all the time? God himself, who has been leading this bunch of grumbling souls in a pillar of cloud, day by day, appears and tells them through Moses that he will fill their emptiness. Why? Because he wants even gripers to know that he is the Lord of their lives (v. 12).
In the evening, God literally covers the tent camp with quail, so that the people have lots of meat. And in the morning, there is dew that leaves behind a fine, flake-like substance that can be made into bread. The Israelites don't know what the latter is. "Man hu?" they ask. "What is it?" And from those Hebrew words we get our word "manna."
Some interpreters have maintained that the gift of the quail and manna were natural occurrences, brought about by a wind blowing in the quail, and a type of plant excreting a juice that formed a yellowish-white flake or ball. And so they ignore the God-given grace involved, which the event reveals to us.
God loves even that complaining, griping, never-satisfied bunch of wandering ex-slaves, and provides them the means of life in abundance. It can give us the assurance that the Lord can love even us. And yes, perhaps it can turn all of our complaining into grateful thanks for God's daily love and provisions.
